


We Sang In Tune

by darkrose



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-05
Updated: 2010-04-05
Packaged: 2017-10-08 18:00:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/78088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darkrose/pseuds/darkrose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Former apprentice mage Rodney McKay joins an adventuring party, and discovers that there's more than one kind of magic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We Sang In Tune

**Author's Note:**

  * For [less_star](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=less_star).



> Written for less_star for Sticks and Snark 2010. She requested "everyday life - either in Atlantis or an AU; hurt/comfort of any kind; building a family (in any sense of the word)." Hopefully I got a little of one and three.
> 
>  
> 
> As always, thanks to telesilla for the read through, and thanks to siria for running this exchange. Title is from the song ["Magic Man" by Heart](http://www.sing365.com/music/lyric.nsf/magic-man-lyrics-heart/9860e6553a06709d4825695e00288bc0).

Rodney stares at the "Adventurers Wanted" board for the second day in a row, growing more dismayed by the minute. _"Need healer...looking for mage with full complement of healing spells...small party ISO mage, healer preferred...."_

I am so screwed.

It's not like he can't do healing magic--it's just that it isn't exactly his strongest discipline. _Put someone's lungs in upside down just once, and no one ever lets you forget it._ Elemental manipulation? Rodney can zap three different targets with lightning at a hundred paces with his eyes closed. His skill with time and space spells is legendary; no one ever ends up two thousand years in the past on the wrong continent if he's teleporting them. And his innovations in magical theory....

...are why he is desperately trying to find a group of sword-swinging idiots to travel with, rather than being ensconced in a comfortable chair in his own quarters--not the apprentice dorms!--at the Mages' Collegium. Rodney is confident that one day, he is going to make a breakthrough in his research that rewrites the basic assumptions underlying magic, and the collection of narrow minded asses that comprise the Collegium faculty will be forced to acknowledge his genius. Until then, though, he has to eat, and it's either find an adventuring party or end up working in a retail enchantment shop, which really would be a fate worse than death.

"You still have not found a party, I see." Rodney almost jumps out of his skin before drawing himself up to his full height and glaring at the young woman who absolutely hadn't been there five seconds ago.

The _gorgeous_ young woman.

"I--er, I, ah--I have yet to see any group here that meets my standards," he says. She just smiles at him in a way that clearly communicates, _Oh, don't even._ Finally he adds, "And also, everyone needs a healer, and I'm, well, not."

The woman's smile broadens. "We have found that a dedicated healer is not necessary if your party inflicts enough damage on enemies to prevent them from damaging you."

Rodney blinks. "That...makes a great deal of sense."

"My name is Teyla; our company is called the Pegasus Irregulars." Her smile edges up at one corner. "'Company' may be something of an overstatement, as there are only three of us, but...." She shrugs. "We could use a mage. We have done well for ourselves so far--and with such a small group, it means that your share of any treasure we find will be substantial. We are staying in the Wingless Griffon inn, if you decide that you would like to join us, Magister...?"

"I'm not--don't call me that." Rodney takes a deep breath. "Technically, I'm still an apprentice. They kicked me out."

Teyla inclines her head gravely. "If the Collegium did not want you, then I would consider that a solid recommendation," she says.

Rodney thinks he could really get to like this woman.

 

Five days later, Rodney's wondering if maybe working retail might not have been so bad. He never thought he'd miss the apprentice dorms at the Collegium. There were always three or even four apprentices in a room designed for two; it was drafty in the winter and stifling in summer; and inevitably, his roommates snored. Compared to tramping through the middle of nowhere in search of a band of wraith that the local lords couldn't be arsed to deal with themselves, though--the dorms were paradise.

"I don't suppose we're going to, you know, stop for the night any time soon?"

Ronon turns around and stares at Rodney. "It's not even twilight yet."

"Well...what's wrong with finding a camping spot early?" It's weak, and he knows it, and he's surprised when Teyla agrees with him.

"We will not find the wraith hive before darkness falls," she points out, "and if we are not settled by then, it will be that much easier for them to ambush us."

John stops and scrunches his face up in that way that Rodney has learned means the elf is thinking. "Yeah, you know...maybe we should stop here. It's a defensible enough spot--Ronon? What do you say?"

Rodney knows exactly what the big fighter is going to say, and sure enough, Ronon shrugs and says, "Whatever."

The camping part really isn't that bad, although Rodney would never tell anyone that. He spends the mana to get the fire started instantly, and before long, John and Ronon have dinner ready. Rodney has seconds. Afterwards, while there's still a trace of light left, Teyla runs through some basic staff fighting techniques with him. He'd mocked the apprentices who did that sort of thing back at the Collegium; a mage's staff was a precision instrument for channelling magical energies, not a _club_, but he hadn't been able to argue when Teyla had pointed out how easily he could drain himself and end up defenseless.

Plus, it gives him an excuse to spend time with her.

He still hasn't quite figured out what she does. Ronon taunts their enemies into attacking him while John's job is to inflict as much damage as possible--which, given how he wields his paired blades, is impressive. Teyla, on the other hand, seems to do a little bit of everything: picking locks, disarming traps, striking from the shadows before vanishing again. It's intimidating, but in a good way, which is weird if Rodney thinks about it too much so he doesn't.

It's really quite pleasant, at least until the wraith show up.

They come out of nowhere, all teeth and claws and corpse-grey skin. Ronon draws their attention, giving Rodney time to set up a couple of timed fireballs, but then there are too many of them in too close for him to use spells like that without hitting one of his teammates. He falls back on simple, quick spells instead. That works for a while, until Rodney finds himself completely drained of mana.

_Okay, so maybe it's a good thing Teyla gave me those lessons,_ he thinks, bracing himself with his staff held in front of him, _and where is she, anyway?_

At first, he's not sure what he's hearing. The sound is too pure and, well, _beautiful_ to be coming from the wraith. Then Rodney sees Teyla, standing on a small rise, Ronon at her back covering her while she sings.

The Collegium taught that bardic magic was a myth. Bard songs could raise morale slightly, but that was due to the skill of the bard, and not because of any arcane power in the music itself. Rodney has never encountered anything to suggest that the Collegium opinion was wrong, not until now.

As Teyla sings, however, he can _feel_ the change. The sudden surge of mana is almost dizzying, but he manages to steady himself long enough to gather the magical energies for the spell. It's more than he's ever handled before; his hair standing on end and his fingertips are tingling.

Then he lets it go.

Lightning crackles in blue-white flashes all around the camp, making it bright enough to see the snarling wraith draw back. It doesn't do them any good. Rodney's pulling power from everywhere--from the ground, the air, the trees--and there's absolutely nowhere the wraith can run. It's over in seconds. Rodney's exhausted, but in a good way, like he's crashing from the best coffee in the world or coming down from the orgasm of his life.

"Yech," John says finally, cleaning his blade on the coat of a dead wraith. "Fried wraith just isn't my idea of a tasty snack." He laughs when Ronon smacks him upside the head.

Rodney's legs feel a little wobbly, but he manages to climb the rise and collapse next to Teyla. When he really looks at her, he's worried: her skin has a greyish cast to it and her hands are shaking. He fishes a somewhat flattened packet of dried apples out of his pocket and hands it to Teyla.

"Thank you, Rodney," she says, smiling at him, and it makes Rodney's stomach lurch like the first time he cast a spell that he'd developed and it did what it was supposed to do.

"I've never seen anything like that," he blurts out. "The Collegium--"

"--teaches that bards are no different from any wandering troubadour or minstrel," she finishes for him. "When I first arrived in Lantea, I had hoped to enlist the aid of the Mages' Collegium in battling the wraith. I believed--still believe--that mages and bards could both learn a great deal from researching one another's traditions. The Collegium faculty members I spoke with were...dismissive of the idea."

Rodney snorts. "Yes, well, the idea that the Collegium faculty could actually _learn_ anything is an unsupported thesis to start with."

Teyla laughs out loud, somehow making her so beautiful it almost hurts to look at her, and of course there's no such thing as magic to make you fall in love with someone, but there might as well be because Rodney's never wanted to kiss anyone quite as badly as he does right now. And maybe there's some lingering trace of bardic song in the air, because he leans forward and presses his lips against hers, and she wraps her arms around his neck and kisses him back.

Rodney decides that he likes adventuring.


End file.
